


Path of the Mind

by OrmondSacker



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Pining, Telepathic Bond, Vulcan Biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrmondSacker/pseuds/OrmondSacker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fighting off the invasion of the Klingon mind sifter broke the last mental bond that Spock possessed, his mating bond with T'Pring, leaving his mind dangerously injured and desperately seeking a new connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Path of the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning, please read before continuing!**  
>  There is a scene in this fic that can be read as dub-con. It isn't – it's going to make sense when you get to it, I swear – but if you have any sort of problem with it you might want to give this fic a miss.
> 
> [Link to art by pixipunch](https://pixiepunch.tumblr.com/post/139840219342/thyla-big-bang-2016-based-on-path-of-the-mind)  
> [Link to art by tardigrade](http://taradigrade.tumblr.com/post/139859623895/my-contribution-to-thyla-big-bang-2016-for)  
> Link to playlist by guardianof tarts (coming soo)

“Beautiful, don't you think Spock?”

The captain's question, though not unexpected, still rattled the Vulcan. But then many things had lately. Though he was loathed to admit it, his mind had not recovered since the Klingon's had used the mindsifter on him and though he had not told neither the captain nor doctor McCoy it had had far worse consequences for him than readily apparent. It had broken the last mental bond he possessed, his mating bond with T'Pring, and that left him dangerously adrift and his mind desperately searching a replacement.

Knowing that Jim expected a response of some sort from him he turned and surveyed the view.

Before him lay a a panorama of the city of Rhaejhuu one of the largest cities on the planet Telunae. Though perhaps most humans would consider this term a misnomer as it sprawled far more than any Earth city did and was build to accommodate the natural features of the planet. But though it adapted to its environment the same way Vulcan cities did, it was equally alien to Spock with its abundant flora. All around them, flowers, bushes and trees in faded turquoise and teal draped themselves elegantly around the buildings and the air was laden with their scents, nothing like the clear, dry air of his birth planet.

“There is a certain aesthetic value to the way this place has been build.”

“To me it looks more like it's grown than build.”

“I believe that was the telunae's intent, Captain. They do not seek to dominate their environment, but rather to adapt to it.”

“Bit like the Vulcans in that,” Kirk said with a smile and put a hand on Spock's arm, a gesture so common from him that at any other time Spock would not have noticed, might even have found comfort in it, but not now. As pained and desperate as his mind was, he could feel his psyche scrambling to make contact. With more speed than politeness Spock disengaged himself and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back.

“It was something Vulcans had to learn in harsh lessons, as was restraint. To the telunae it comes natural.” He kept his voice as neutral and his face as impassive as he could.

He saw a flash of hurt pass through Kirk's eyes but he dared not allow any contact between them, in his current state he did not know how he might react and there was a genuine risk that he might inadvertently bond them.

The hurt was quickly followed by a frown and a curious look. Kirk looked about to speak when one of the telunae delegates appeared.

“Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, I hope our... festivities meet with your approval. We are not used to dealing with your kind, if we have offended please tell us how,” the young male said.

“Not at all... I'm sorry, it seems I've forgotten your name.”

“We have not been formally introduced. I am called Glassada and I have been asked to see to your comforts this night.”

Kirk gave an uncertain smile.

“We were just walking about, enjoying the sights. It's beautiful city.”

“If you wish I can show you around.”

“That sounds wonderful. Spock?”

The Vulcan considered. He had no desire to remain close to the captain in his present state and even less to have the company of a stranger, but the only excuse left to him would be to return to the festivities which was even less appealing, so he simply nodded.

Quietly, but with great eagerness Glassada escorted them about while he explained about both the history of the city as well as its architecture, flora and fauna. As they walked Spock noticed how the telunae would constantly touch the captain on the arm, shoulder or back. At each touch Spock wished nothing more than to step between them, to remove the telunae's hand and replace it with his own, and no matter how much he bend his mind to stop thinking such dangerous thoughts, they kept on returning.

In a final effort to stop the train of thought he attempted to focus on his surroundings, studying the architecture and flora.

The buildings wrapped themselves around the deciduous trees like they were truly growing from the trunks and branches. Cool cerulean flowers and the azure leaves of climbing vines made for vibrant decorations on the walls and roofs.

The plants were remarkable and in studying them Spock found himself so captivated that he hardly noticed that Kirk and the young telunae went ahead and finally disappeared amongst the greenery. Realising that he had lost track of time and place he frowned in consternation. No true Vulcan would allow himself to become so engrossed in his surroundings.

_Should he attempt to relocate the captain and his... escort?_

There seemed little reason. Telunae was a peaceful planet, violence was unknown here, so the captain should be safe enough from any physical threat. And now that he found that he had lost them he enjoyed the peace. No longer was his weakened shields constantly badgered by the constant onslaught of other minds.

Though he had to grant that the telunae had minds that were far more ordered and controlled than most, but his human fleetmates had their thoughts scattered all over, jumping about and ever underlined by strong passions and impulses that in his current state, it was becoming increasingly harder to ignore. Especially those of the captain's.

_Jim._

The mere thought of the name called a vivid image of the human forth in Spock's mind. The golden hair, equalled by an equally radiant mind. Hazel eyes, both soft and stern. The scent of coffee and Starfleet standard issue soap.

An ache filled his whole being. Whenever Jim was near him Spock found himself constantly struggling to not step nearer, to reach out, to touch with both hand and mind. But he dared not. In his current unbonded and unstable state it would almost inevitably result in a bond forming between them, a bond that, when his Time came would mean that he would claim Jim for his own as he had no other mate.

The thought of the human's reaction to such an act filled Spock with something that was both overwhelming and disturbing.

No, he could not allow it. But when they were apart such as now, he felt the absences as keenly as he would feel the loss of a limb.

A very un-Vulcan sigh escaped him and he looked about to see where his feet had carried him during his musings. Once again he had lost track of himself. Twice in such a short timespan, truly his condition was as serious as he had feared.

In front of him stood one of the telunae buildings, warping itself between the trunks of several giant trees. A ramp gently sloped upwards toward a door opening that had an ivylike plant with periwinkle flowers growing around it.

Spock heard human laughter from behind and a sound he identified as a similar noise from a telunae. He had no desire for company again, nor to engage in conversation he hurried up the ramp and through the opening.

The room beyond was spacious. The low, firm pillows that the telunae used for sitting on lined the walls and the floor is covered with a thick carpet, all of it in kept in the same cool blues and green as the planet itself.

“Welcome,” came a gentle voice behind him. “To the... Temple of Rest I think you would call it.”

Spock turned to find a tall, female telunae of indeterminable age standing behind him, studying him intensely.

“What do you seek?”

Feeling oddly ashamed for his avoidance of his crewmates and not wishing to explain himself he answered more brusquely than he intended.

“Forgive me. I thought this was a public building, I did not mean to intrude.”

“All are welcome here, off-worlder. I ask again, what do you seek?”

Her golden eyes were strangely compelling, gently querying him and the mental ache he had carried for weeks seemed to grow almost to the bursting point in his mind.

“Solace.” His voice sounded hoarse and agonised to his own ears.

“You were injured.”

It was not a question, yet Spock nodded.

The memory of the mind-sifter tearing into his mental defences, his own desperate struggle to resist it, to keep his and his friend's secrets, knowing that if he could not both their lives would be forfeit, that his captain's, his friend's blood, would be on his hands. Unable to outright resist he had to resort to deflecting the brutal assault to areas of his mind that held less dangerous, less precisions, things. So occupied had he been by his efforts that he had not seen how near it had cut into his bonds, how it had cut into the already tenuous connection he had with T'Pring, and by the time he did, it was too late. The bond was nearly severed and all he could do was witness its last bit of unravelling as it forever disappeared from his mind.

“Then you have found what you sought. This is a place of healing among us.”

“You cannot assist me. This is not a wound any but a Vulcan can heal.”

“Because it is a wound in your mind rather than your body? I can sense that.”

“How?” The surprised exclamation escaped him before he could stop it.

“Most telunae are born with little talent fro telepathy and less inclination to train it. But some of us are born with more and of these there are those like myself who train to use what we have to assist those of our people who needs it.”

“I am not telunae.”

“But you are a telepath.” she looked intently at him. “Let me explain what happens, then you can decided.”

There seemed little harm in listening to her and the atmosphere in the room soothed him so Spock acquiesced.

As she spoke she guided them away from the front room and further into the building.

“We help people to help themselves. A healer can do nothing to a mind that resists and even when they do not wish to admit it, people themselves know what they need better than even those closest to them ever can.”

The room she led them into was small with highset narrow windows, along its walls was placed several large cushions and on the far wall hang a set of beautifully carved wooden cupboard.

From it the young female took a large, angularly cut crystal, a bluish light seemingly shinning from its core.

“This has been programmed by one of our greatest... I think you would say doctor's, to guide a person the part of their minds where the root of their problem lies.”

Spock looked at her.

“What do I do?”

“Lie down.” She indicated the cushions along the wall and Spock silently complied, feeling part entranced and part desperate. There was a risk, but in his present state was it not worth it?

“Now take this in your hands, close your eyes and focus.”

Spock did as he was bid, drawing a deep breath-

 

**oOoOo**

 

He stood high on the mountainside, beneath him the dry broken land stretched as far as his eye could see. The smelled of ozone and moisture was heavy in the air, strong winds ripped and tore at his black robes, and above him gathered the ominous clouds of one of Vulcan's rare and destructive thunderstorms.

Spock knew that behind him would stretch the stairs to the top of mount Gol, flanked on each side by statues of the Vulcans of old.

He did not wish to turn, to face what lay at the top, but the wind continued to increase in strength, pushing and shoving him backwards step by step, until he felt his heels bump against the first step.

Finally he turned, if he was going to be forced to walk this path he at least wanted to see where he stepped so he didn't stumble.

And still the wind grew in strength, buffeting him up the steps, one by one, taking him closer to the top and his destination. Lighting flashed above, followed by a deafening roar of thunder, though no rain fell and the earth remained as parched as always.

Getting ever closer to the top, he began to see the monastery its harsh lines outlined sharply against the darkened sky by the rapid flashes of lightning.

The winds forced him through the open gate and across the courtyard, pressed him against the door and threatened to crush him against its surface. Frantically he grabbed for the handle and forced it down. A sudden gust shoved him, making him trip through the opening and fall flat on the floor inside.

And then it was gone.

As he lay on the icy stone floor, he was puzzled at the sudden lack of noise as well as the force that had put him here. Even more surprising was the gentle touch of hands to his shoulders, tenderly raising him from the floor. But most astonishing of all was the person to whom those hands belonged.

“Jim?”

The human smiled, then frowned.

“Are you okay, Spock?”

Jim raised one hand and ran it gently across Spock's cheek. The Vulcan jerked back as if he had been burned.

“Why do you pull away?”

“Captain, may I remind you that Vulcan's do not generally invite physical touches?”

“It's Jim, here. And why shouldn't I touch you? It's what you want, what you put me here for after all.”

Spock felt himself grow rigid, his heart rate picking up.

“I did no such thing.”

“Of course you did. Don't you remember where you are?”

“I-” He broke of his words, realising. “This is not Vulcan.”

“No Spock, it's not. This is your mind, this is what ails you.”

Kirk stepped back and Spock finally paid attention to the room that lay beyond. It was luxuriously even extravagant. Weapons and artworks of Vulcan origin decorated the walls, the furniture was finely made with elaborate carvings and oil lamps lit it all in a soft glow. In the middle of the room was situated a large, soft bed, downy pillows at the head and with glittering covers reminiscent of those of Starfleet.

Jim himself was dressed... suggestively. His vest was of semi-transparent material, copiously showing his solid torso with its sculpted pectorals and the loose trousers he wore clung to his legs in a way that Spock could only describe as obscene, their flowing material still managing to show of the sharp curve of his hip and the firm line of his thigh muscles.

Jim – no, Spock corrected himself, The Figment, nothing in this place was real – went to stand next to the bed.

“Well?” The Figment drawled suggestively in a tone of voice he had never encountered from the captain.

Spock froze. The suggestion was all too obvious, but this was wrong. This could not be. _He_ couldn't. Shaking his head he began to back away, until his back hit the now closed door.

“Oh come on, Spock,” The Figment chuckled as he, it, began to undo the vest, sliding it slowly over his shoulders and down his arms. “You don't really want to leave. I know you don't.”

Smiling lewdly Jim, no The Figment, glided across the floor towards him. As he – _it_ – moved, it began to untie the cord belt to its trousers, wrapping the corded ribbon around his hand and through its fingers. The trouser dropped down around his ankles in mid stride, leaving him completely naked and Jim – Spock shook his head. _Figment, this was a Figment – gracefully stepped out of them and continued prowling towards the Vulcan. He – it – didn't stop until it was chest to chest with the Vulcan._

Raising one hand to the Vulcan's cheek, The Figment ran its thumb suggestively across Spock's jaw. Spock swallowed, feeling his heart starting to race faster and an odd heat spreading through his body. The Figment leaned in and pressed his – _its_ – lips against Spock's jawline, kissing its way down the jawbone then continuing down the Vulcan's neck, until the lips came to rest against the hollow of his throat.

The gust of hot, humid breath against his skin made Spock shiver, despite the heat of the room. _Or was it just him growing hot?_

He started at the feeling of a warm, wet tongue darting out to lap at the hollow, while The Figment's hands ran vertically across his waist towards the knot of the belt of Spock's robe. Spock grabbed his wrists, restraining its movements which made The Figment raise its head a grin saucily at him.

“Is that how you want to play?” it purred, then sank slowly down to its knees looking up at Spock.“Okay. You even have a nice rope to use.”

Releasing The Figment with enough force to make him tumble backwards, Spock gathered his robe about his body.

“Desist!”

The Figment laughed loudly, lying in a disorganised heap while studying the Vulcan closely.

“You don't even mean that.” It rose gracefully to its feet still smiling, but it had changed into the warm familiar smile that Jim often gave him.

“You still don't understand, do you? I, am you. I am what you want, but dare not ask for. I am what you have buried so deep in your mind that you cannot even conceive of it with your concious mind. Denying me is what is hurting you, what is slowly killing you.”

Spock pulled himself up into his full height.

“Such a statement is erroneous. If you are indeed part of my mind you know that it is being unbonded that is causing the distress.”

The Figment smirked.

“Then why don't you make one? You could just return to Vulcan and get it done. Surely you're not the first male to have a bond forcefully broken. Even if T'Pring refuses you there would be others wouldn't there. And if they wouldn't take you for you, there's always the allure of your family.”

Spock looked away, there was too much truth in what The Figment was saying.

“So what is stopping you Spock? Shame, fear of being viewed as a failure? That's awfully emotional reasons for a Vulcan. Or is there something more? Is it that you're looking for someone... specific?”

He wanted to run, run from the truth, from this too perceptive... whatever this thing was, but the storm outside would kill him if he tried to leave. Or so he told himself, trying desperately to ignore the heat of his skin where The Figment has touched him.

Attempting to create some space between them, Spock walked towards the low bureau. As he passed The Figment it reached out and snagged hold of his sleeve, spinning him around so they once more were face to face.

“The longer you deny me, the harder things will be for you.” The Figment ran one arm around his waist, pulling him against its heated skin. “Stop rejecting what you want. How is that in any way logical, Spock? Not taking what you want, what you need, when it's being offered.,” it whispered in his ear.

The Figment's arm felt like a steel vice around his waist and the puff of hot air from its mouth scalded the skin of his ear. Its second hand came up to rest on Spock's belt knot, two fingers dipping beneath the folds of his robe and caressed his skins on top of the thin undershirt he wore.

“Layers, Spock? You really do protect yourself against being touched, don't you.”

It pulled at the hem, slowly releasing the undershirt from its confines of his trousers.

“What are you afraid of?” it whispered at it finally succeeded in pulling the shirt all the way up and two burning hot fingers touched the sensitive skin of his abdomen.

Spock's hand shot out, grabbing The Figment's wrist.

“Desist!”

“Why?”

“Because I do not wish this.”

“Liar,” The Figment whispered, letting the tips of its fingers slide across his skin. “This is what you want, what you struggle not to think of when you meditate, what you fight against in your dreams when you sleep.”

Velvet lips brushed across the shell of his ear, making him tremble.

“Let go.”

It was tempting, so very, very tempting, to do just that. To let go, to let Jim's hands slide beneath his clothes and across his skin. Feel those silky lips as they brushed across his body, in burning caresses. To stop thinking, stop controlling, to feel and just... let go.

Wet lips trailed down his jaw line and throat.

Spock sighed and softly tilted his head back, releasing The Figment's wrist and it let its fingers draw intricate patterns on his skin.

Turning in its embrace, Spock raised one hand and laid it on the side of Jim's face.

Immediately a great emptiness filled him causing him to stagger backwards, pushing The Figment away hard enough to make it stumble back and fall onto the bed. Pulling itself fully onto the bed it send him a suggestive smile and padded the madras beside it.

“Come here.”

“No!”

What had he been thinking? This was nothing, an illusion of his injured mind. It could not sustain him. If truly it was what it said, it could still not be what he wished. And he would abandon all of Vulcan, all that he held dear for a moment of what? Dust and ashes.

Swallowing hard, he stumbled backwards from the direction he had come. As he backed away The Figment's expression grew ever more serious.

“Spock? Spock what are you doing?”

“You are nothing, a dream. You are not real and this place brings no healing.”

He felt the wooden door against his back, his fingers curling around the cool metal handle. Pressing it down, Spock stumbled back out into the howling storm.

 

**oOoOo**

 

Half of the open plaza was filled with low tables decked with various forms of food, while the other half was left free for dancing. Kirk found himself sitting on one of the “sitting pillows” that the telunae used, a glass of something fruity that Glassada had brought him in his hand. The telunae had said he intended to find them both some food and left Kirk alone.

Jim was thankful for the respite in company. He liked Glassada well enough, but he had been talking to one person or another, sometimes several at once, ever since they beamed down 10 hours earlier and he was beginning to feel it. He had noticed that Spock had managed to make himself scarce. Hardly surprising given that this much socialising would wear down the Vulcan even faster and the commander didn't seem to have much patience for social niceties lately.

Kirk sighed. He _was_ beginning to worry about his first officer. Spock had seemed... off lately, though Jim was hard pressed to say _how_ exactly.

Terse? Certainly, but Spock was often direct to the point of being brusque at times. Withdrawn? That too, but again this was hardly abnormal for the Vulcan. No, there was nothing specific that Jim could put his finger on, but over the course of the last several weeks he had got a sense of... something being not quite right with Spock. But whenever he tried to address it, Spock either changed the subject or pretended to not know what he was talking about.

Kirk surreptitiously ran a hand across his face and rubbed his temple. Over the last hour or so his migraine had become worse and worse. He had thought about hunting McCoy down for a remedy, but from the one glimpse he has caught of the doctor so far it had seemed that his friend was enjoying himself immensely and Jim had decided not to disturb him as the headache had not seems so bad at the time, something he was now regretting. He could pop back up to the ship, but leaving even temporarily in the middle of the festivities seemed impolite and they were all on their best behaviour after all.

“Are you unwell?”

Looking up Kirk found Glassada standing next to him with a plate filled with chunks of fruits and bits of sweets on it.

Jim forced a smile.

“A headache, nothing more. It'll go away.”

“Did you not bring a... doctor with you? Might he not help?”

“I don't want to disturb him. As I said, it'll pass.”

Glassada frowned.

“I might be wrong, I am still inexperienced with off-wolders, but I do not believe humans are supposed to look your colour.”

_Was it that bad?_

It didn't feel that bad, but he was sometimes off in judging how he would look to others being so accustomed to the migraines.

“Perhaps you will allow my people to assist?”

 _“The telunae are a social and sociable people”_ , Jim recalled the Federation ambassador's words at the briefing. _“When one among them ails, they are all affected. They are also helpful and considerate, and they have little personal pride. If they offer to assist you with something that they perceive as being a problem for you, try not to let your personal pride get in the way,” the matronly-looking Andorian had laughed. “I know it's a difficult thing to ask of humans, but do try.”_

So while normally Jim would have kept on dismissing the issue – he hated appearing potentially weak in front of strangers – he clamped down on the impulse.

“Well, I suppose that depends on what you cures for headaches are,” he said.

“That much depends on the source of it. I will take you to... I apologise, I am not sure how this translate into your language, the place in the city where our... doctor's resides.”

“Hospital? Surgery? Doctor's office?” Jim offered.

Glassada considered for a few moments then shook his head.

“I am not certain any of those are correct, but it is of little matter now. Come, I shall take you there.”

He held out his hand and Jim allowed him to help him off the ground.

 

Whatever the telunae called the place where they kept their medical staff among themselves Jim would not have called it a hospital, or even have guessed the buildings purpose. It looked much like all the other houses, only larger, as it stood between tree the trunks, covered in vines.

As Glassada led him up the ramp to the entry another telunae, this one an elderly woman, came out.

“Greeting, Honoured,” Glassada said. “The one I bring require your aid.”

She nodded and turned her attention to Kirk

“Greetings to you both.”

Jim smiled slightly at the formal tone.

“I apologise for bothering you, but Glassada suggested you might be able to help with my headache?”

The telunae smiled at him and rose from his seat.

“You are not a bother. I am Melui, your name I already know. I shall see what I can do.”

She escorted them through the large antechamber through a set of wide corridors and into a small, but comfortably appointed room. She gestured for them both to sit, seating herself in opposition to Jim.

“As you are not of this world I shall ask you, will you permit me to.... sense you?”

Jim frowned, rubbing his temple. It seemed the headache was only going to get worse.

“What would that entail exactly?”

“It is a form of... experiencing, that goes beyond what you call the physical senses. To behold what cannot be seen by the eye or heard by the ear.”

“Telepathy?”

“In a sense I suppose, but not of an invasive nature. Or at least no more so than how you would invade a person by merely looking at them and listening to what they said.”

Kirk considered. He was not generally fond of having strangers in his head, apart from his personal secrets he had professional one's as well that both needed protecting. But it didn't sound as if that was what she was going to do and his headache seemed to be increasing exponentially now, so he nodded.

“Okay. Anything I need to do?”

“If you would merely sit and try to relax as much as possible that will suffice.”

Taking a deep breath, Kirk tried his best to make himself comfortable on the pillow he was sitting on. The telunae – _what was her name again? Ah yes, Melui_ – seemed to do nothing more than sit and look at him.

After a minute's time Jim started to fidget, not sure for how long this was going to continue.

With a sudden frown Melui made eyecontact with him once more.

“It is not you.”

Jim's confusion showed on his face.

“I don't follow.”

“It is not you that is the problem. You are responding to the pain of your _seu-ri_.”

“My... _seu-ri_? What's a _seu-ri_?”

“The one who's soul you guard.”

“Spock!”

The name had left his lips before he even realised he was going to say it. But there was no one else it could be.

_What had the Vulcan got himself into?_

He had assumed that Spock would be safe, there was no violence on Telunae. Of course there was always a possibility of local flora or fauna turning out more dangerous than had initially been assumed.

Jim reached for his communicator only to belatedly realise that it was on board the Enterprise. No one had thought they'd need it. Rising quickly to his feet he addressed both the telunae.

“I'm sorry for my abruptness but if Spock's in danger I need to find him.”

Melui and Glassada rose as well.

“His pain is not of the body, but of his mind.”

Kirk frowned.

_Was that why the Vulcan had been recalcitrant and... off in the last couple of weeks? He was suffering from some mental injury that he hadn't disclosed? Dammit, why hadn't Bones spotted it? No, that wasn't fair, the doctor wasn't omniscient and Spock was very good at hiding things when he wanted to. And if blame was to be assigned he could start with himself, he had brushed off Spock's behaviour as something not out of the normal and he knew Spock better than anyone._

_“The one who's soul you guard.”_

He heard the words again.

_I'm not a very good guardian am I?_

Well that was neither here nor there. He could deal with it after he found Spock.

He looked up at Melui.

“That may be, but I still need to find him. He... he's my friend. If he's in pain-”

“Of course. We shall assist you in locating him. Where did you last see him?”

“When we met with Glassada. He escorted us towards the festival plaza. Spock fell behind. I just assumed he wanted some time alone, as a telepath being around a lot of people for a long time can be tiring for him.”

“You friend possess a telepathic gift?”

“Touch telepathy. All of his species does to some degree.”

“Perhaps that will assist us in locating him. Come.”

Melui guided them out of the room and led them down a corridor only to be intercepted by another female telunae, breathlessly hurrying towards them.

“Melui! I need-” Only then did she apparently spot Jim and Glassada. “Oh! Forgive me, I did not see you had companions.” Her eyes narrowed on Kirk. “You are one of the off-worlder's. One of the leaders.”

“I'm the captain of the Starfleet ship orbiting the planet, yes. Why?”

“Then perhaps you had better come.”

Kirk suddenly got a sinking feeling and hurried after the telunae who had turned and was walking back the direction from which she had come. Jim hurried after her.

The room she led them all to looked much like the one where Melui had brought him and Glassada with one notable exception. On the pillows on the floor lay Spock, fingers curled around a large multi-faceted crystal. His were eyes closed and his still face a passive mask, and if not for the oh so slow rise and fall of his chest Jim might have thought him dead.

“Spock!”

Leaping past the young telunae woman, Jim knelt down by his friend's side.

“Spock?”

He reached out for the Vulcan only to have his hand restrained. Looking up he met the eyes of the young telunae.

“Do not disturb his grip. It might be... dangerous.”

“What did you do to him?” Kirk demanded sharply.

“I was trying to help him.” She turned her head to Melui. “His mind. It hurt so and I thought-”

“I sense it too, _eria_.”

“But what did she do?” Kirk demanded.

Melui looked at him.

“Your friend suffers greatly though I do not know what is the source of his pain. You feel it too as you are linked.”

“You mean-” Kirk raised his hand to touch his temple. “But I haven't felt anything before tonight, just a little while ago.”

“You are not a telepath and your friend is. Perhaps he has been shielding you? I do not know why he would not confide in you, such bonds carry with them more than mind ties.”

Kirk shook his head.

“Well that neither here nor there. But what's the problem? Why is he just lying there.”

The other telunae licked her lips nervously.

“I put him in a trance, to help him.” She looked back at Melui. “He was hurting so much, I _had_ to do something. But... I'm not sure what happened, but now I can't reach him. I can't even get through to him, it's like he... has this high wall build around his mind and to get through I'd have to tear it down, but I have no idea what doing that would do to him.”

Jim saw that Melui was frowning.

“What us the problem?”

“It feels like... he's fading.”

Pushing Jim gently aside, Melui knelt down next top Spock and placed one hand on the crystal. For what felt to Jim like an eternity she neither moved nor spoke, merely stared into thin air. Finally she straightened, releasing her hold on the crystal, her face now in sombre folds.

“I perceive what you mean. There are no gaps in his defences, no way of getting through to him. But there is a sense of him retreating from this world in a fashion that he should not be doing.”

“What do you mean?” Kirk inquired.

“In your words, he is dying.”

“Why? If it's merely a trance how can it be dangerous?”

“It is not the trance, the device he holds is meant to help him heal the injuries his mind has sustained, but he appears to be rejecting what he is finding. And so he fades from this world by spurning that which would help him.”

“Eathi,” Melui nodded towards the other telunae. “Has little knowledge of off-worlders and that makes it difficult for her to comprehend why someone would do such a thing, no telunae would. But there are those who are not of Telunae who believe they are meant to hurt, or who hold so firmly onto a set of beliefs that are causing them pain that they would rather die than relinquish them.”

Jim wanted dearly to argue her words, tell her that Spock was neither of those things, but he found it difficult to do so. Though the Vulcan was rarely dogmatic where others were concerned, for himself he held often impossible standards and Jim did not find it unlikely that he would rather die than abandon that which he believed was proper Vulcan conduct and beliefs.

He shook his head, none of this helped Spock in any way.

“Well, if you can't help him perhaps our medical people can.”

He reached for his communicator again only to remember once more that it was up on the ship. Swearing loudly he got to his feet, intent on go finding the doctor the old fashioned way. He needed Bones here, now.

“Perhaps it would be more beneficent if you stayed,” Melui said. “While I do not fully understand the nature of the bond between you I believe that your closeness could be of aide to him, even if he is not consciously aware of you.”

“If you would tell me who should be fetched, I will get them,” Glassada interjected, before Kirk's temper could rise further at the obstacle to help his friend.

Jim nodded gratefully to the tall telunae.

“Our doctor. My height, spindly build, dark hair and blue eyes, answers to the name of McCoy. Ask the others of my crew, they might have seen him. Or if you have a bar, you'll likely find him there.”

Glassada hurried out the door and Jim sank down next to his friend again, gently placing a hand on his elbow.

_Please don't leave me._

 

**oOoOo**

 

It felt like an age before McCoy finally arrived, though when he did he was fully equipped with not only a medical tricorder and a fully stocked medical bag, but he even remembered to bring a communicator.

“What has he got himself into this time?” Bones said, shaking his head energetically and studying Spock's still form.

Eathi had long since left them while the elder telunae had seated herself on one of the cushion at the far wall, composing herself in silence. At McCoy's entrance she had looked up and now she moved to speak in answer of what Kirk was certain had been a rhetorical question from the doctor.

“Before you get into any details that this guy,” he pointed towards Glassada. “hasn't already provided, let's see what modern Federation technology can get in the way of answers.”

Melui subsided with a nod, apparently taking no offence at the doctor's brusqueness, and studied him closely as he carried out his examination.

Whipping out the tricorder he slowly ran it over the Vulcan's body, his face growing ever darker as the scan progressed, much to Jim's worry.

“What is it?” Kirk asked.

“His vitals. They're far below what they should be. I don't like it at all.”

“And they will continue to fall as long as he is not brought back to consciousness,” Melui said.

She had approached so silently that neither Kirk nor McCoy had heard her, and the sudden sound of her voice made them both jump.

“But you can't get through to him?” McCoy asked.

“No. He rejects attempts at reaching him.”

McCoy scratched his chin.

“If it was something physical, hormonal even, I might be able to do something. But this? Maybe if we could get him to Vulcan?”

“And how far are we from Vulcan, Bones?”

The doctor sighed.

“Too damn far most likely. At the rate he's going anyway. It's almost like he wants himself to die.”

“Don't say that!”

“And yet the doctor speaks the truth,” Melui interjected. “Your friend is deliberately rejecting that which would help him and in doing so rejects the possibilities that is life itself.”

“Maybe he doesn't understand what that,” Kirk nodded towards the crystal. “Object is showing him.”

Melui frowned.

“Perhaps. I know little of the minds of off-worlders.” She sighed. “Eathi should never have tried something this risky, though I understand her need to help. But idle wishing does not solve your friend's issues.”

“You sound like you have a solution.”

She nodded.

“It is one I have been hesitant to suggest as it carries a great amount of danger.”

“For Spock?” Jim asked.

“No, for you.”

“I don't understand.”

“Your friend blocks any attempt by a stranger to reach him, and his strength and skills are such that breaking through his defences will indeed do more harm than good. You on the other hand might just be able to slip through his defences. You have formed a bond so he already knows your mind, he might be willing to accept your presence where he rejects others.”

“But I'm no telepath.”

“Indeed you are not. And therein lies the danger. You will have little defences should he decide to attack you and equally little control over the world which his mind has created with the help of the crystal. Also you will take what place he has designated for you in his mind. That is, you will appear as he sees you, or as he last thought of you. Not knowing what presently goes on in his mind, that could be anything at all.”

“And that's dangerous how?”

“That depends on how he thinks of you. But damage incurred by your mental form will have consequences, not only on your mind but if severe enough on your body as well. And if you fail to bring him back, you will share his fate.”

“You mean they'll both die?” McCoy exclaimed.

“Potentially.”

“Jim, don't. There has to be another way.”

“What, Bones? I'm open to suggestions, but I'm not going to stand here and watch Spock die if it's in my power to save him.”

“Even with the very great risk that it'll cost you your own life!” McCoy shook his head.

“Hmmm, I suppose that was a rhetorical question. There's really nothing you wouldn't do for him, is there?”

Jim looked down on the still form of his friend.

He knew that he was the captain of the Enterprise, that right now he was on a diplomatic missions and that he should be putting that first, look for alternative solutions or, at worst, accept that Spock's own choice would cost him his life. But as he knelt there next to Spock, watching the slow rise and fall of the Vulcan's chest, knowing that that movement would stop forever unless he acted, all the rest of the world with its duties and obligations seemed to fade beyond his ability to hear.

“No Bones, I don't think there is,” he answered.

He knew he shouldn't feel this way, that it was not only dangerous and unprofessional, but that it would very likely mean heartbreak for him in the end.

He had long realised that he had begun to fall in love with his First Officer, he recognised the symptoms all too well. The way he would look at Spock a little too long, appreciating the broad shoulder and lean build. Stand a little too close, unconsciously find ways to touch him – something that Jim was surprised Spock tolerated, fuzzy as he usually was about being touched. Going out of his way to find reasons to talk to him or just spend time with him – he had even started throwing chess matches, fearing that losing too often might put Spock off, until the Vulcan informed him that he had no wish to play against someone who didn't offer their best game. His desire, no need, to elicit those small almost-there smiles. And the empty ache in chest when he couldn't do those things.

But he knew it was something that was never, ever going to happen. Even if they managed to negotiate their differences in rank and the added difficulties arising from being within the same chain of command Spock was Vulcan, and Jim had no idea how to even begin to approach him.

He had tried, subtlety, to pry some information about courtship rituals among Vulcans from Spock, but the Vulcan always either changed the subject or feigned lack of understanding of what Jim was asking. So he had taken the hint, Spock wasn't interested, and buried his budding affection as deeply in his heart and mind as he could, accepting the steady friendship that the Vulcan was willing to give him as gracefully as he could and let that be enough for him. But still there were nights where the emptiness in his chest kept him awake with its soul deep ache.

Kneeling here next Spock he knew that he would throw away everything that he had worked so hard in his life to achieve, even his own life, if it meant a chance of saving the man he couldn't have.

Jim smiled ruefully.

_Was his unrequited love part of what had created this connection between them?_

f it was, it had at least been good for something. He looked up at McCoy.

“Call up Scotty and tell him he has command of the ship for the time being, then get hold of Uhura somehow and tell _her_ that she's in charge of the delegation until I get back.”

Bones nodded. Grabbing Glassada by the elbow, the doctor physically dragged the telunae out of the room with him.

Swallowing hard, Kirk looked up at Melui.

“What do I do?”

“Lie down next to him.”

Jim lay down on his side, making sure that there was a good sized amount of space between him and Spock.

“It would be beneficial if you touched him.”

Kirk blushed and fidgeted. It wasn't just that he knew how much Spock disliked being touched in general, he was afraid how he would respond to being so close to Spock and that he might end up embarrassing himself.

Either not noticing his distress or perhaps just feigning disinterest Melui continued.

“At least you will have to touch the crystal in his hands, it is the conduit you will need to traverse.”

That would be an awkward reach from where he lay. Licking his lips Jim shifted closer to Spock, feeling the heat from the Vulcan's body and the gentle, spicy, acrid aroma of it.

Gritting his teeth he tugged his arm under his head for support, and reached out and put his hand op top of the large crystal, painfully aware Spock's long, slender finger beneath his own.

“Now you must relax and think of him.”

Blood shot further into Jim's face. Relaxing while thinking of Spock?

_You have no idea what you just asked of me._

Well, there was nothing for it if he wanted to help Spock. So taking a deep breath that filled his lungs with that lovely, enticing scent, Jim closed his eyes and tried his best to think chaste thoughts of his friend rather than of how Spock's skin would feel like beneath his lips. Or if those long fingers were as agile as they looked. If Spock would like to be kissed a human way. What it would feel like to have those strong arms circle his waits and heft him onto the bed, how...

 

**oOoOo**

 

Blinking Kirk suddenly found that he was no longer in the well lit room lying next to Spock, but rather on a bed. A very large bed and a luxurious one, clearly not one mean for sleeping in, something supported by the fact that the silky soft bedding was rumpled and in disarray.

He was also quite naked.

_Was this- How- Did... Had he somehow exerted an influence-_

No, Melui had said that he would appear in Spock's mindworld in the fashion that Spock had last thought of him and that he would have no power to affect this. Which meant that... this way; him, naked, in a bed with rumpled sheets was how Spock had last thought of him.

_Of them? But Vulcans didn't- Or was it merely that he had simply assumed they didn't?_

Jim firmly put the million questions he suddenly had out of his mind. Whatever Spock had thought of him – _them?_ – it was clear that it would not help him find the Vulcan as Spock was no longer in this room. So he would have to go find him.

Somehow.

First things first, clothes. He couldn't run around this place streaking. Apart from his own awkward feelings about doing that there was Melui's words of warning, that what happened here would here could easily have consequences on his physical body. While it seemed far fetched that he would develop bruises and scrapes simply because he banged his knee in this place he'd rather not risk it.

Looking about he found the room as lavishly appointed as the bed, filled with several pieces of comfortable looking furniture and lots of Vulcan weapons and object's d'art used as decoration.

Spotting what appeared to be a wardrobe on the far wall, Jim rolled off the bed and went to it.

The piece of furniture was indeed a wardrobe, stocked to the brim with various forms of Vulcan clothes. Some of it was rather... suggestive.

Jim's mind boggled again.

_Did Vulcans truly dress in this? In that case they were certainly less restrained in private than their public personae suggested and maybe, just maybe..._

Again he forced the scurrying thoughts that multiplied in his mind aside for more practical matters.

Finally he found something that wouldn't leave him an embarrassed, stuttering mess upon finding his friend. A pair of tight fitting trousers, tunic and a thick robe to put above it all. To finish the ensemble he found a pair a boots of some durable material that felt to his fingers like leather, tough he doubted that it was as he couldn't see the conscientious Vulcan use any material from an animal when there was alternatives. Not even in his dreams.

Quickly dressing Jim found that the materials were quite comfortable against his skin, the boots fitting as if they were made for his feet, then he made his way to the door. He opened it only to have it jerked out of his grip by a gale force wind.

The howling storm grabbed his body and sent him to his knees, while swirling sand obscured his vision and threatened to choke him.

Bending his head, Jim pulled the scarf belt of the over his mouth and nose to block out the sand, and allow for freer breathing.

This was so at odds with the lavishly and almost decadent bedroom behind him. Part of him did not want to venture out into the storm. If he got lost in this it might harm if not kill him.

_But Spock is lost in it... What will happen to him if I don't find him?_

He knew what would happen, McCoy had already said it. Spock vitals would keep dropping until No he wouldn't think of it. It wouldn't happen, he would not _allow it_ to happen.

Pushing himself to his feet, Kirk started struggling up against the wind, making his way through the storm.

 

**oOoOo**

 

The winds had driven Spock to his knees more than once, filled his mouth and eyes with sand and all but torn the skin of his body in the places where it was exposed to the elements.

Once more the gale forced him down and Spock wondered if he had the strength to rise again, and if there was even any point in doing so? He was lost in this barren wasteland, subjected to the whims of the storm that preyed on his mind. Perhaps it would be for the best if he remained lost in this place, here at least he was a danger to no one but himself.

 _No!_ Giving into despair and defeatism was not acceptable in the Teaching of Surak.

Digging his fists into the sand to push himself up, the tips of his fingers touched something. Scraping the sand away, his head kept tugged down to shield his eyes and mouth from the whirling grains, he uncovered a carved stone tube.

Recognising the carvings, Spock's eyes widened.

_Impossible! This... It was only a myth._

_A'faw t'savan-don-tak_ , a commentary of Surak's words, written down by one of his students at the time he still lived. A priceless artefact, an invaluable addition to Vulcan culture and thought to no longer exist, if it ever had.

A gust of wind tore through the landscape and seemingly achieving a sentience of its own, tore the cylinder from Spock's hand, sending it spinning and tumbling across the sands towards a nearby ravine.

“No!”

With no thought for his safety or the fatigue still burning in his limbs Spock chased after it, heading right towards the yawning chasm.

 

**oOoOo**

 

The howling wind rendered Jim almost deaf and the whirling sands blinded him as he struggled against the gale force winds.

He couldn't quite explain how he picked his path, for all he knew he could be going in circles, and yet somewhere deep inside him Kirk knew beyond any doubt that he was heading in the right direction. He was pushed by a sense of urgency he did not understand, that he had very little time left.

Bending his head to get it out of the winds he took a deep breath to fill his lungs with air and gathered himself to push on. Looking up, the whirling sands parted in front of him, revealing a familiar form leaning out over the edge of an abyss.

His heart leapt in his chest.

_Spock!_

Then the figure leaned further out over the edge and abruptly disappeared.

 

**oOoOo**

 

Spock caught hold of the cliff side as he went over, his fingers clinging to the outcropping, his body slamming in against the side of the cliff with enough impact to bruise it.

Leaning out had been a reckless thing to do, but he could not let such a precious thing become lost again. Or worse, destroyed.

The stone cannister lay nestled in a gap between two rocks further down. He reached out but found it just beyond his fingertips.

Edging down a few inches brought it within his grip, but only barely so.

He tried to get his fingers around it, using his other hand to hold on the outcropping, but the tube seemed almost unwilling to be held by him.

Spock felt his fingers slip on the rocky surface, his palm sweaty from the strain of holding on, but if he used both hands the precious container would fly away.

Desperately he tried to get a better grip on the stony vessel, but the surface felt slick and as if it tried to wiggle out from under his fingertips.

The gale yanked at his robes, causing him to slide yet further down the cliffside and put him dangerously close falling into the endless depths below.

Unexpectedly he felt hands gripping his wrists. His head jerked up to see Jim, lying on his belly halfway out over the edge, the human's hair being tossed about wildly by the storm and an expression of fierce determination on his face.

“Spock grab onto me!”

For the fraction of a moment Spock thought this to be yet another figment, another attempt of this place to distract him, but the pulse of the warm, living mind that shaped those hands that held him was to clear to be denied. Somehow, someway, Kirk had found his way to this place and to Spock.

_How?_

“Come on, reach up,” the human said through gritted teeth, using all his strength to try and pull Spock out of the chasm.

Spock hesitated. If he did as Jim asked, if he reached up and let himself be pulled out of the abyss he would lose any chance of retrieving the _a'faw t'savan-don-tak_.

 _But if he did not?_ He might risk his own life in the pursuit, but Jim's?

He knew the human would never let go, would rather be pulled into the vast depths beneath them before he stopped trying to save Spock and the Vulcan could not let that happen. Whatever the cost, Jim's life was worth more.

With a single moment of regret, Spock reached up for Jim.

 

**oOoOo**

 

Never had Jim's heart been filled with a greater fear than when he saw Spock's form go over that edge, nor had he felt more elation than when the Vulcan's long, strong fingers curled themselves around his wrists and he felt his friend struggling to get back up to the top of the cliff.

Jim pulled with every ounce of strength that he had and slowly but certainly, and with much help from Spock, he managed to pull the Vulcan up and away from the chasm.

Once they were safely away from the abyss, Jim wrapped his arms tightly around Spock's shoulders in an almost bruising embrace, while running one hand over the Vulcan's hair. And Spock clung to him in turn with a grip even more firm.

Profound relief flooded through him, leaving him weak kneed and drained, but while part of him wanted only to lay down to rest he found himself unable to let go of his friend.

_Foolish, foolish Vulcan. What object could possibly be worth your life?_

So distracted was Jim by his relief that Spock was safe and with him again that he didn't notice his own action, as he idly brush his lips over Spock's temple.

 

**oOoOo**

 

Spock clung to Jim's form – _Jim, the real Jim, not the predatory Figment_ \- burying his nose in the human's hair, attempting to use its warmly familiar smell and silky texture to block out the memory of what he had just done.

 _It was merely an illusion_ , a part of his mind told him. _Nothing created by this place is truly real._

And yet it felt real, felt as if he had let go of one of the most precious part of Vulcan culture and history to save himself.

 _No, to save Jim_.

Had it only been his own life he would have continued to attempt to gain hold of the precious parchments even if it meant injury or death, but he could not risk Jim, not even for that.

And Jim clung with equal intensity to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

The storm had abated, and only a quiet breeze blew through the desert. His skin did not hurt, the abrasions slowly closing and his mind felt calm held against Jim's.

_I am lost and you with me. Forgive me._

So lost was he in his thoughts that he almost missed the feeling of gentle lips against his skin. He froze, unsure of Jim's intentions, but the human did nothing else except continue to hold him.

Unsure how to respond to the intimacy Spock opted to say nothing and remained enclosed in Jim's arms until the human started to get restless.

Spock sat back, reluctantly pulling away for Jim's warmth.

“Well,” Jim said with a smile. “Ready to get out of here now?”

“You know where we are?”

“Of course. The telunae healers sent me.” The easy smile was gone and Jim's eyes were filled with sadness and worry. “Spock, you were dying.”

The Vulcan did not know how to respond, but then Jim did not seem interested in an answer. In stead he let go of Spock fully, rose to his feet and held out a hand to Spock.

“We can talk about this later, right now I suggest we find a way out of here.”

Nodding Spock took Jim's wrist and let the human help him to his feet. A part of him was tempted to remain lost in this place and not having to face the world as its issues again, but to do so now would be to doom Jim as well as himself. So instead he simply nodded to Jim again, once he was back on his feet.

“I you would follow, I will lead us out.”

 

**oOoOo**

 

Blinking Kirk came back to himself and his body again. Then, with a rush of blood to his head, he realised how close he lay to Spock and rapidly shifted away.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The Vulcan looked at him, his dark eyes strangely sad.

“Apology not needed, I assume it was necessary.”

“It is good that you are with us again, both of you,” Melui interjected.

“I am Melui,” she introduced herself to Spock, who acknowledged her words with a nod.

“Excuse me for interrupting ma'am.” Kirk looked over his shoulder to see that McCoy had returned and stood by the door with a stormy expression on his face.

“Yes, doctor.”

“Do you need anything else with these two right now?”

“I do not believe that is necessary. As the commander has returned to us, he should not be in a worse state than he was prior to his... adventure.”

“In that case you two, I want you both up in Medbay right away. God knows what all this did to you. And you Spock appears to have had problems beforehand.”

“Bones-” Jim warned him. Speaking so disparagingly in front of their hosts were hardly what could be called diplomatic.

“I agree,” came Melui's mellow voice. “While the intentions may have been good, it is clear that this procedure should be permitted on off-worlders without testing. While I do believe that you are both unharmed by the events, to examine you both for possible unintentional effects is sound.”

McCoy gave a surprised grumble in agreement.

“But perhaps you would allow me to speak with Commander Spock before you all leave?”

The doctor gave the Vulcan a suspicious side-eye that had Kirk suppressing a grin. He didn't have to be a telepath to read McCoy's mind and his worries that Spock would use such a respite to avoid being examined at all.

Maybe it was because she was a telepath, or perhaps she could guess McCoy's thoughts too for Melui's next words echoed Jim' thoughts.

“If you will let me know of a way to communicate with your ship I shall make sure the he gets up there as soon as we are done talking.”

“Hmmm. Alright then.” Then, side eyeing, Kirk he continued. “You I'm keeping where I can see you though, you're as bad as he is.”

He flipped open the communicator.

“Enterprise. Two to beam up.” The moment he was done talking he dropped it into Melui's outstretched hand, right before the transporter beam grabbed them both.

 

**oOoOo**

 

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and stared at the wall.

He had no wish to remain here but the telunae healer – Melui, his mind provided her name – had insisted, so he would endure it.

“Commander Spock, may I enquire why you rejected what you were offered?”

“I do not understand the question.”

“While our methods may have had unintended consequences on you, it is clear that unless they worked very differently than they should, they would have offered you what you needed to heal. The root of the problem lay in your rejection of it. I wish to know why you would endanger your life rather than accept what is necessary for you to grow?”

Spock's first instinct was to refuse, but looking into her eyes made him reconsider. She might appear mild and bendable, but something told him she would pursue this until she had her answer.

“It was not the Vulcan way. What I was offered.”

“Does it matter? When your survival is at stake?”

“They are the values upon which Vulcan society have been build for millennia, they should not be easily discarded.”

“I did not say that. But the values of a society can strangle the growth of an individual. If so they must be adapted.” She looked at his with a piercing stare. “And if they have become so inflexible that they cannot be adapted perhaps it is better that they be discarded altogether, or they will end up crushing their own society under their weight.”

Spock made no reply. He found that he had none, only too many questions.

The silence stretched on until finally Melui sighed.

“As you wish then. Against a recalcitrant patient, even the greatest healer works in vain.”

She handed him the communicator.

“You may call you ship, there is nothing further you can find here. But if you wish to heal, I strongly suggest you take what is offered you. Stubborn refusal will only make you worse and others may pay a great price as well.”

Spock took it and flipped it open, relieved at the easy escape.

“Spock to Enterprise, one to beam up.”

 

**oOoOo**

 

As McCoy came into the Sick Bay's office, Kirk slid off the desk. He tried to make his movements as causal as possible, but he knew that the tension in his body belied his attempt and that the doctor likely saw right through it.

“How is he?” Jim asked.

“Awake and vertical. And his vitals are back to where they usually are. But it's the brain scan that worries me. I haven't check it in a while so I can't say when this happened, but I don't think that Vulcans are supposed to look this way.”

“In what way?”

“See that's the thing. His scans are all over the place, some readings are too high, others much much lower than what is the norm.”

“What does Spock say about it?”

“Nothing, that's what. And it's not because I didn't think to ask him. I did, more than once. But he's doing his best imitation of a clam and a damn good imitation it is.”

McCoy looked at him, exasperation written all over his face.

“Jim, you try and talk to him. Maybe he'd be more willing to open up to you.”

“He hasn't exactly been open with me lately .”

“Maybe not. But what you went through together down there and what was it the old lady said? You share a bond. It must mean something to him.”

Jim slowly let out his breath.

Given what he had witnessed in Spock's mind, the state he had... woken up in for lack of a better term, yes it meant something to Spock. But he wasn't sure what. And when he added his own feeling on the matter it all grew even more potentially explosive. If he went in there and talked to Spock right now there was a real chance he wouldn't have his friend anymore when he walked out the door again.

But on the other hand what else could he do? Bones was coming up against a wall of Vulcan stoicism and stubbornness and who knew what Spock would do next? Jim didn't want to use the word suicidal, but he wasn't sure what other word fit his friend just now. So Jim simply nodded.

“Okay, I'll talk to him.”

 

**oOoOo**

 

Sitting on the biobed Spock was considering the possibility of simply leaving the examination room and returning to his cabin. Unfortunately that was only likely to postpone the inevitable rather than avoid it.

McCoy's examination had been thorough and dug out more things about his current state of health than Spock was comfortable revealing, particularly concerning his current state of mind. But he supposed that had only been a matter of time, the doctor was as relentless and thorough as he was emotional.

Hearing the door from the office open he looked up.

After the interrogation session that doctor McCoy had put him through during his examination Spock fully expected it to be him who stepped through to continue his efforts – it was not like him to leave a job undone – so he was more than a little surprised to see that it was Jim.

A quiet dismay filled him.

As little as he wished to continue his conversation with doctor McCoy, Jim was a person he wished to confront even less. Especially given that his friend was if possible even more tenacious than the doctor and had insights into his current state the physician did not possess.

Jim smiled warmly as he approached, though worry was plainly visible on his face, and Spock felt something in his chest contract in that not-unpleasant-nor-quite-painful-and-oddly-pleasing way that that particular smile of Jim's often caused.

“How are you feeling, Spock?”

“I am functional, captain.”

Hopefully his formal tone would make this conversation end all the quicker. If nothing else it succeeded in making the smile drop from Jim's face.

“Spock, talk to me.”

“I do not know what you wish me to say.”

“What's happening? Why did you try to kill yourself down there?”

“I assure you that was an unintended consequence.”

“Was it, Spock? Was it really? Because the more I think about it, the more it seems to me that you've been increasingly... erratic over the last couple of months. And then there's this bond between us. What is it Spock? What's happening?”

“It is... a Vulcan thing.”

Kirk folded his arms, looking squarely at Spock.

“I'm listening.”

“It concerns Vulcan culture and is considered a private matter.”

“Well, since we share one I'd say I'm already involved in this private matter.”

“That was indeed unintentional captain. It was not something I meant to bring about.”

“But it happened.”

“Yes.”

Spock clasped his hands in his lap and stared down on them before continuing.

“It concerns Vulcan... biology.”

“Biology. What kind of biology?”

“Mental.”

Kirk remained silent, obviously waiting for Spock to elaborate.

“You know that Vulcan's are a telepathic species.” Kirk nodded. “And for our mental health simple... bonds with one another is necessary. Most form several, between parent and child or between friends. Growing up as an outsider I had few and in my years of absence most of these faded.”

“So you formed one with me? Unintentionally, to stabilise yourself?” Kirk's voice was soft.

Spock was tempted to remain silent and let Jim's words stand as the implied truth. But Jim deserved the full truth. The length that he had been willing to go to to save Spock and that their bond had been strong enough for Jim to reach him, showed Spock that this was far more progressed than he had anticipated. If it were to be stopped, or annulled they would need professional assistance from a Vulcan healer. The thought made Spock burn with shame, but he could not risk Jim's life and health any further in this.

“Not quite. There was one bond remaining to me that kept me sufficiently stable to function, the one with my future bondmate, T'Pring.”

“You're married?”

Spock looked up to see a look not only of surprise, but also oddly enough hurt on Jim's face.

“There is no clear equivalent in human terminology, though the closet would be engaged.”

“So you're engaged to be married?”

“I was. Tough this bond too have faded over time. Bondmates are often picked at a young age to ascertain that their minds and the bond will shape in a way that will make them suitable for each other when the Time comes, but the one I shared with T'Pring.... did not. When I fought the Klingon mindshifter the strain became too much and it broke.”

“I'm sorry, Spock.” Jim had walked closer over the course of their conversation and now stood right next to Spock. As the human spoke he put one hand on the Vulcan's shoulder and it took considerable restraint on Spock's part not to reach out and touch him as well.

“Spock, you said 'suitable when the time comes'. What does that mean.”

“We do not speak of this with outsider, but as you have already observed you are involved. It too had to do with biology.”

He heard Jim huff softly.

“I assume we're talking sexual biology this time.”

“Indeed.”

Spock wasn't sure how to continue. The subject was deeply embarrassing, yet it was necessary that Jim understood the danger he would be in if their bond was not severed.

“There comes a time in the life of every male Vulcan where he... is in need of a mate.”

“A sexual mate?”

“Yes. It- is a matter of reproduction. We go through a time where essentially we must mate, or die. For mating to be possible a mental connection to ones partner is necessary.”

“You mean that after you lost your bond with... T'Pring, you formed one with me?”

Even without looking up he could hear the disquiet in Jim's voice and he cringed slightly.

“The formation of a social bond was already occurring, but the loss changed its nature. Or rather, it's possibilities. It is not yet a mating bond, not... quite. But in time that will occur.”

He heard Jim swallow convulsively.

“So when your time comes.... then what?”

“As things stand, I will be drawn to you.”

“But... if it's about reproduction...”

Spock forced himself to look up at Jim and found the man red-faced and flustered.

“We're both... male.”

“Human mating mechanism also has their roots in reproduction, yet diversity of taste has developed unhindered.”

Jim went even redder.

“Yes, I... suppose it has. I merely thought that-”

“Since I was Vulcan things might be different.”

“Yes.”

“Obviously not.”

Jim's features softened and a smile spread on his face again. Still blushing his hand softly caressed Spock's shoulder.

“Okay.”

Spock blinked in puzzlement.

“I do not understand.”

“Well, I can't say that I had planned on getting married this soon, or at all really, but-”

Spock leapt to his feet, shaking off Jim's hand, an intense anger flaring in him.

“You do not understand. Our time of mating is a dangerous one, I will be drawn to you whatever your wishes at the time. I will have no choice. _You_ will have no choice. And it will be for life.”

“You'll need sex badly, I understand. I think I can live with that.”

“You do not understand. Our joining will not merely be physical, but mental as well. There will be no part of you that will be hidden from me.”

Jim looked straight into his eyes.

“I can live with that too.”

Spock made to protest, but Jim held up his hand and the Vulcan fell silent waiting for what illogical reason the human had so that he could make a proper counter argument. He had to make Jim understand that this was not an option.

“You need this, don't you? You _need_ a mate. And you haven't gone back to Vulcan to rejoin with T'Pring or, or find someone else because...”

Spock looked away, unable to meet Jim's gaze any longer.

“Because there isn't another for you, is there? But there is me.”

“I don't need your sympathy,” Spock snapped.

“It's _not_ sympathy, Spock.” Jim exhaled slowly. “I never meant to tell you this, it's vastly inappropriate, but with... everything being what it is- Spock, what you... feel for me, it's not unilateral. It's shared.”

Spock stood stunned, staring at him.

“I find that difficult to believe,” he said when he finally found his voice. “You have shown no such inclination towards me.”

“What do you take me for? I'm your commanding officer, I- I'm in a position of power over you, that's something I can't abuse.”

“And yet now you speak?”

“Circumstances have... changed. Haven't they?”

Jim looked at Spock with haunted eyes.

“I- When I 'woke up' in your mind I found myself in-”

“You do not need to elaborate.” Spock was mortified, it was the last thing he wanted his friend to have seen. “I- I can only apologise for that.”

“I'm not interested in an apology, but I would like an explanation.”

“I should think the situation was self-explanatory.”

“So you do think of me as-”

“Yes,” Spock bit him off. This was worse than he had ever feared it would be.

“And I think of you that way too. _And_ you need a mate. So...”

Spock felt himself wavering, his arguments slowly being eroded by Jim's tenacity.

“You would need to learn to shield your thoughts if you are to continue as captain and a Starfleet officer.”

Jim nodded, acknowledging his argument, only to continue.

“Is it learnable for a non-telelpath?”

Spock only hesitated a moment.

“My mother did.”

“Well, so can I then. Anything else?”

“Jim, we cannot.”

Kirk folded his arms and stepped forward.

“Why? No Spock, give me a good reason why we can't? You want me and I assure you it's mutual. I was always a till-death-do-us-part man so that's not an issue either. I have no problem with our minds being joined and you said it's likely that I can learn to keep some of my thoughts to myself outside sex. So what else Spock?”

Jim was hovering so close to him now that Spock could feel the heat coming off the human's body. It was... alluring.

“There are things that humans need in a relationship that a Vulcan may not be able to give.”

He knew he was prevaricating and yet found that he couldn't stop.

“But we're not talking about a hypothetical human and Vulcan here, we're talking about you and me. What is it that you think I need in a relationship that you can't give? Sex?”

Jim cheeks was colouring slightly again, in a very becoming fashion.

“You know, I'm not nearly as sexually active as most people seem to think,” Jim continued. “And after what I saw in your mind...” The human let his words trail off.

“There are other forms of affection than physical,” Spock said.

“You're plenty affectionate for me.” The smile that spread on Jim's lips made Spock look away as he felt heat rise on the back of his neck.

“What else?” Jim asked.

Spock did not answer, merely stared at the opposite wall not knowing how to proceed. This was not the Vulcan way, but the Vulcan way had brought him nothing but pain, And continuing down it was endangering Jim.

He remembered the mindscape, the precious cylinder falling from his fingers and the warmth of Jim's arm in his grip.

Melui's words came back to him.

_“And if they have become so inflexible that they cannot be adapted, perhaps it is better that they be discarded altogether or they will end up crushing their own society under their weight.”_

_Had the standards of Vulcan society truly become so inflexible? Or was it merely his interpretation of them?_

“Spock?”

The sound of his name from Jim's lips brought him back from his reverie to see a very worried look on his friend's face.

“I... apologise. I know I'm out of bounds. You have every reason to put me on report for this and I won't fight you if you do. Spock, if you truly don't want me, I'll respect that. But _please_ , at least allow me to see you safely back to Vulcan so you can find a solution. You can't keep endangering your own life like this.”

Spock slowly exhaled. There had never been another choice for him had there.

_Even if the mind sifter had not broken his bond with T'Pring would it have endured the one that was forming with Jim?_

It was one of the things he would never know, and perhaps that was for the best.

“Jim, it is not that I do not want you. But I am not sure I can be what you need.”

Jim smiled again and to Spock it looked almost shy.

“And I think you can. I would have preferred to do this differently, slower, and to court you properly first. But it seems that events and... Vulcan biology is overtaking us. So I will have to do that after the fact in stead.”

“Jim I assure you, there will be no need for that.”

Jim's smile widened.

“And I assure _you_ Spock, there'll be every need.”

Spock knew that the conflicting impulses he experienced at those words could logically be broken down and analysed individually, but he found that he did not want to. The sense of both weakness and strength, loss and triumph, underlain with a sense of belonging, and all of them mixing into something akin to joy, was both unique and profound.

He frowned, trying to find the words that he knew needed to be said, but which were as foreign to him as the telunae world had been.

“Jim, I accept.”

The quiet smile that the human gave at those words, sooth the Vulcan in ways that only served to confirm his choice.

“And I shall do my best to be worthy of you.”

Jim reached out and brushed his hand across Spock's shoulder.

“You already are.”

The words sent another burst of delighted conflict through him and the gentle trails of Jim's mind as he touched him made Spock sigh softly. His mind no longer feeling as if it were tearing itself apart in its emptiness.

There was still much they must both face, compromises that must be negotiated if this union was to be a success, but for now, for once, he was content to merely be.


End file.
